


Interruption

by technicallymilkshakes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Mentions Of Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technicallymilkshakes/pseuds/technicallymilkshakes
Summary: Kyungsoo's the only one left in your corner. But that's okay; he'll always keep his promise.





	Interruption

        It’s not his phone that wakes him up today. He doesn’t have to shut off the alarm. He slips out of bed quietly, being careful not to disturb the cat. His feet are bare. For the next half hour, he prepares your favorite breakfast meal. The cat wakes up and joins him in the kitchen to beg for a little scrap. He can’t resist. He tells the cat it’ll get fat and warns it not to eat, but he’s still slipping it food anyways like he does every morning.

           He finishes eating in silence, standing at the kitchen counter. He has to keep the cat at bay with a foot or else it’ll come and bite him. When he’s done, he puts his plate in the sink. It’s just about the time you would wake up, and he dishes everything up for you just the way you like it. Each food item separate and not touching. Jam jar already open because you could never deal with that early in the morning. Toast already buttered.

           After he’s arranged everything to his satisfaction, he pads back into the bedroom, dresses in the dark, then heads out the door, whispering “Just a little longer” before locking up.

           He rides the bus to work today. Normally he takes the subway, but today it’s so cold that he can’t bear the walk to the station and the bus stop is closer. It’s a bleary-eyed morning still, the sun struggling to rise and shine from where it’s hidden behind clouds that turn the day white. The bus isn’t that crowded when he boards, but after a couple stops the seats are all filled. An older man, maybe in his 70s, joins the surging crowd. Kyungsoo stands up and grabs the nearest available hanging strap. He doesn’t say anything, but the man notices. He takes the seat.

           “Thank you.”

           He waves it off. “My stop is coming up.”

           The man nods and Kyungsoo stands there for six more stops before he gets off. He hurries into his building, into his office, and then he shuts his door. He stands there shivering for a little longer before he’s ready to divest himself of his coat.

           His office doesn’t have many decorative touches to it. He has a cactus that an ex-coworker gave to him when she was cleaning out her office. He’s never watered it. There are some binders on the bookcase that are untitled, but he knows the exact order everything goes in. There’s a filing cabinet in one corner near the desk with a magnet on it. A happy face. Even though he isn’t the one that put it there, he’s never once been tempted to take it off.

           The single photo in the room is of you. He looks at it a lot. It’s unframed and the bottom is taped to the desk, right under the computer monitor. Looking at you, thinking about you, gets him through the day.

           He’s known you for a long time now. Today marks your 4 year anniversary. He has a phone app that keeps track of these things for him, even though he never has to be reminded.

           It’s only been an hour since he’s been in the office and he can’t think. He can’t get anything done. He goes to the kitchen and brings back some coffee that he knows he won’t even drink. He places the napkin he brought with him over your picture. You’re making him nervous.

           There’s no work for him today. He wants work. He can feel everyone’s gaze on him and he knows they know. The secret in the inner pocket of his suit weighs a little heavier. They’re doing it for him, he knows that, knows he can’t concentrate. But it means all he has to distract him is work that’s already gone as far as he can take it. He fidgets with his coffee to waste a few seconds of the eternity waiting for him.  

            At lunch time, he skips the meal. He goes for a long walk even though he shares your hatred for the cold. Anything to keep him moving and to keep him from dwelling.

           His favorite picture of you is one when you’re only 5 years old.

           You were with your best friend at the time. At that age, you thought “smiling” meant stretching your mouth as wide as possible and squinting your eyes until you couldn’t see anything. You had put bunny ears over your friend’s head and found it hilarious. After your friend saw the picture though, she wouldn’t talk to you. For an entire  _day_. It made you so upset that you didn’t want to eat dinner. You apologized to her the next morning and everything was all daisies. But she got her revenge. The next time the two of you took a photo together, she put bunny ears over  _your_ head. You knew what she was doing and just let her. You never stopped bragging about that to your parents. You never used bunny ears on another person ever again.

           He knows all of that.

           He gets back to the office an hour later and stays in his coat for the rest of the time he’s there.

           The second his day is done, he’s out the door. One colleague, who’s from a completely different division, grabs him by the shoulder as he walks by.

           “Good luck,” he says, and Kyungsoo knows he means it but “good luck” does not stop the churning in his stomach. “Good luck” does not slow down his racing heart. “Good luck” does not mean that they will respond positively to what he has to say. Most of all, he wishes that no one felt they had to tell him “good luck” in the first place.

           On his way out of the office, he walks past the bus stop. He takes the subway now, but it is not headed home. In fact, it heads in the opposite direction, out of the city. The entire ride, he does not look up. He sits on the edge of the seat, arms resting on his knees, hands locked together. It looks like he’s praying, he knows that, but he’s not. He’s trying to keep his sweaty fingers off what’s in his pocket, and maybe that’s his own way of praying.

           Instead, he thinks of another secret.

           Right out of college, you had an affair with your boss. You didn’t know it at first. And then one day, his wife visited. In fact, you had seen her before. You thought she was just a business consultant since she came in talking about the viability of future construction sites and your boss and her would hole up in his office and, you assumed, talk business.

           And maybe they did. But one day she came in and it wasn’t about business. She came in and it was about kissing and whispering, “Happy Anniversary” and him leaving early to treat her to “the single nicest day since our wedding.”

           Kyungsoo knows you were inconsolable then. He knows that you pushed your family and friends away. He knows that eventually you broke down to your best friend and admitted that you continued seeing your boss. For two more years.

           And he knows your biggest regret. That you hadn’t been the one to break up with your boss. Because that’s what you had been scared of all along. Being alone.

           He knows all of this and still. Still. He knows the most important thing. That you can be loved. That you are worthy of love.

           That he loves you.

           It’s a long walk from the subway station to your parents’ house, but he doesn’t hurry. He takes the time to reflect on what it’s taken to get him here. Not just the bus or the subway, but all of the steps that came before and between.

           When his steps finally take him to the house, they have to turn the porch light on because night is falling in the shortening hours. Your mom opens the door.

           “Oh, Kyungsoo,” she says. “What a surprise! Come in, come in.”

           He steps inside and takes his shoes off. He kisses her on the cheek and exchanges warm greetings with her. Your dad joins in from the kitchen where he’s been cooking. He just has time to greet Kyungsoo, giving him a firm handshake that turns into a one-armed hug, before a beeping sound comes from the kitchen and he speed walks back to turn the timer off.

           “You’re just in time for dinner,” Mom explains to him. “We’re making spaghetti.”

           He follows her into the kitchen. Wordlessly, he retrieves plates and utensils from the cupboards and sets the table. He’s done this so many times now that he no longer gets the cup drawer confused with the one for plates.

           It’s a quiet dinner, but a pleasant one. He always feels at home with your parents. They have drawn him into the fold in a way that he has never experienced with any other family but his own. Mostly your parents talk between themselves. By now they know that he doesn’t talk much. But they turn to him every now and then, asking if he agrees or what his opinion is on the latest news. They hardly ever disagree and it’s the same case now. They toast to good opinions and then your parents set in on another topic between themselves, leaving Kyungsoo to finish wiping his plate clean with garlic bread, a smile on his face.

           He helps clean up. It’s a family event in this household and more quickly than he’d like, it’s done.

           Mom turns to him and says, “Now, while I know how much you love our spaghetti, I can’t imagine you’ve come here just for that. You didn’t even know that we’d be making it for dinner!”

           He smiles, a very small one. How many times had you complained about eating spaghetti every single week of your life? “You’re right that I’m here for something else. But the spaghetti, I knew about that. It’s Tuesday after all. You always make spaghetti on Tuesday.”

           “Do I?” she asks in mock surprise, and the two share a laugh. Dad tries to sneak off upstairs, but Kyungsoo stops him.  

           “I’m afraid this time you’ll have to join us, sir.”

           Dad stops on the landing. When he turns around, he looks at his wife.

           Kyungsoo watches her and she looks back at her husband with such a complex mix of emotions, he has to turn away.

           “Come on, dear,” she coaxes. “I’m afraid we’re not able to escape from it this time.”

           Dad rejoins them and together the two walk into the living room. They sit on a couch together and Kyungsoo maneuvers one of the arm chairs so that he’s seated directly opposite them. Your parents look back at him nervously, holding each other’s hand like they’re holding the only stable thing in their vicinity when a storm is brewing.

           Kyungsoo opens his mouth, and closes it. Opens it again, but says nothing. He can’t look at them. Endless times he’s tried to put it in words, but there is no right combination. There is no rule of thumb to follow, no preparation to ever make him feel ready for this. And although he feels bad that he can find no words to warn them, he pulls the item out of his pocket and sets it on the coffee table that lies between them. He looks at them now, sees the dread, the white knuckles. And he gestures for them to open it. Like it’s something harmless.

           It’s Mom that moves. Dad can only lean back and close his eyes and pretend that he’s not there at the moment. Mom opens it and she stares and she sees.

           “No.”

           Dad opens his eyes and he sees.

           “No, no, no.”

           Mom turns into Dad’s shoulder and she starts crying.

           Dad stares blankly at Kyungsoo.

           “Why?”

           “I don’t intend to go back on my promise.”

           “Then what is this?” Dad gestures tiredly at the open folder and papers. “How is this not breaking your promise?”

           “Four years ago, I promised to you and your wife. To your daughter—”

           Dad holds up his hand. “Don’t bring my daughter into this.”

           Kyungsoo is confused by this.

           “With all due respect, this is about your daughter.”

           “With all due respect, my daughter is dead. So don’t bring up promises you’ve made to her, because the dead can’t make you keep them.”

           Not even Mom breaks the silence that descends.

           A minute goes by.

           “For her sake, I’ll work hard to restore your faith in me. I haven’t given up. All I ask is that you not give up on me.”  

           Dad doesn’t look at him. “I am a weak man.” He is deflated and shrinking until he is speaking into his hands. “I wish that I never met you.”

           Mom stands up. Her tears are not yet dry, but she walks to Kyungsoo and gestures for him to follow her. She leads him upstairs. The second floor is a hallway with four different doors leading off from it. All of them are closed. Mom moves to the one all the way on the right.

           “Open it.” It’s not a command. It’s a plea. Her lips tremble and she presses them together. Kyungsoo lays his hand on the doorknob and looks askance at her. She nods.

           He opens the door and a gentle hand on his back propels him forward.

           He’s seen this room before, in pictures. But it doesn’t quite capture the feeling of it, or how the woman next to him affects his perception. He stands at attention, hands folded. This is a sacred place no matter the religion.

           It’s painted bright yellow. Except one wall. One wall is blue and has graffiti all over it. Middle fingers and band names mix with flowers and cats. There’s a white bookcase pushed up against that wall that’s filled with books and little trinkets. A miniature sail boat. A lucky cat nesting doll. On the desk against the opposite wall are stacks of newspapers along with other odds and ends like a very weird looking googly-eyed starfish. Underlying it all is the smell of citrus and he knows that they’ve polished the floors recently. Within the last week.

           “Yellow. Her favorite color.”

           He wants to tell her that yellow used to be your favorite color. It changed to red sometime in high school and finally to purple. But Kyungsoo bites his tongue. There’s no place for that now and perhaps the little you is the you that is most alive for her.

           “This is where she lived and slept for 18 years.” Her eyes are closed, but Kyungsoo knows not to mistake tiredness for peacefulness.

           “It looks clean now, but it was always a mess when she lived here. Clothes all over the place. You had to step carefully though. You could never be sure there wasn’t a hairbrush or a science fair project hiding under there. It was like a minefield.” She moves over to the desk and picks up the hairbrush. It’s full of hair that isn’t hers. She runs her fingers down the bristles.

           “Are you really going to keep your promise?”

           He responds immediately, firmly.

           “I swear that I will.”

           She turns around to face him and she is crying and fierce.

           “Because I forget what she looks like when I’m not looking at a picture of her. And I feel such guilt. She’s my baby, but I can’t…” her voice breaks. Kyungsoo walks to her and takes one of her hands in his.

           Her lips move upward, but how can anything so heartbroken be called a smile?

           Mom grasps his hands and pulls them so the knuckles are against her lips.

           “I have to let go of her now. So will you take up my burden?” Hot tears hit his skin. Her lips are wet with them. “Please?” She kisses his hands. “I know I’m being selfish, but I have no more room. So please, please. Remember all of her.”

           She wipes the tears from his cheeks. “You poor, lonely man.”

           And she is right.

           He is a poor, lonely man. For who are more lonely than those who must remember?

           Four years ago this day, he met you. You had a lily in your hair and you had been dead approximately 7 hours. Someone had laid you on the ground and arranged your hands so they clasped over your stomach. There was no sign of a struggle. It had been Kyungsoo’s job to resurrect you. Piece by piece, he created something more vivid than a life. You grew so that the only place he could fit you was in his heart. And now, after years of interviewing suspects, co-workers, friends, family, he knew practically everything about you. Except who killed you.

           But there’s protocol to follow. It’s been a long time since there’s been a lead. The case has gone cold. Officially, it’s been shelved.

           Still, Kyungsoo keeps his promises.    

           There are not many words left to be spoken. Mom leaves the room first and Kyungsoo follows, shutting the door gently behind him. Dad is waiting downstairs. He thrusts the folder back into Kyungsoo’s hands and follows his wife to the door.

           “Thank you for everything, Inspector,” Mom says, and he knows that he has lost his last companion.

           “I’m sorry,” he says.

           They smile polite, vacant smiles and close the door behind him.

           Kyungsoo turns his face to the sky. There’s no moon to be seen, no stars to wish upon.

           “I’ll find out what happened. I promise.”

            _Give me just a little longer_ , he tells his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Crossposted from tumblr. If you're interested, you can follow me there [@technicallymilkshakes](https://technicallymilkshakes.tumblr.com/)!


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